


Controlling What We Can

by Monsieur_Grenouille



Series: Quarantine With the Wentzes [4]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Post-Hiatus (Fall Out Boy), just some real dad stuff, transgender Patrick Stump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:20:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23495200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monsieur_Grenouille/pseuds/Monsieur_Grenouille
Summary: What do you do when everything seems out of control?
Relationships: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz
Series: Quarantine With the Wentzes [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1689277
Kudos: 6





	Controlling What We Can

**Author's Note:**

> I know that Londyn hasn’t exactly had the best first impression on you guys, but show some love. She’s going through some tough times.

Pete knocked on Londyn’s bedroom door, shrinking back when she shouted, “I hate you!” without even asking who it was. 

“Londyn, it’s just Dad. I wanted to talk to you,” He wiggled the doorknob, but it was locked. “Lon, what did I tell you about locked doors in this house?” 

Londyn groaned from the other side before standing up and unlocking the door for him. “What?” she deadpanned. 

Pete sighed, “Honey, please drop the attitude. I’m coming here to help you with whatever it is you might be feeling. I don’t want there to be a distance or a brokenness between us just because your mother can’t be here, so it’s best if you can talk to me.” 

Londyn bit her lip. “You wouldn’t like what I want to say.” Despite her sentence, she tugged at Pete’s arm to drag him into her bedroom. Pete began to sit down on the old wooden chair in the corner, but Londyn shook her head. “You don’t have to sit there. It’s bad for your back and I want to be closer to you.” 

Pete felt a flutter in his chest. His daughter — his angsty, rejective, broken-hearted daughter who probably hated his guts right now — wanted to be closer to him. Pete gave a crooked smile and awkwardly sat on the bed next to Londyn. Londyn crawled over to put her long arms around him. Pete looked at her with his iconic concerned expression. “What’s been going on?” he asked gently. 

Londyn sighed, “The world is dying in a worsening pandemic after one of the continents just crawled out of a fire filled hell. The countries hate each other, my mother’s dead, and you only waited sixth months before you got remarried. Patrick keeps asking me questions and trying to hang out with me, but I don’t know why.” 

Pete stared at the floor. He only cared about the last three events. He only cared because they were things that were bothering his pride and joy of this world. Now he hadn’t go help the best he could. “The... the thing about your mother,” he began, “It’s just one of those things.” 

“What things?” 

“Well... it was a traumatic event and a stressful time to go through, and I promise the doctors did everything they could. They tried, Londyn.” 

“They could’ve told us she was going to die instead of giving us hope.” Londyn sniffled and wiped her eyes. “At least _then_ I wouldn’t have been lied to.” 

“You weren’t lied to. They really were trying their best. It was just a really strong type of cancer,” Pete drifted his gaze over to the bedside table, which had a picture of Meagan and Pete on their wedding day. Pete had the same picture in his room next to the one of him and Patrick. 

A comfortable silence passed through, broken by the occasional sniffle or outburst of tears. Londyn bowed her head onto her dad’s shoulder as she cried. “I just... I just wish I didn’t take her for granted, you know?” she sobbed. 

Pete blinked away tears and hugged her back. “I feel the same way. She was an amazing wife and an amazing mother. You really look like her, you know?” 

Londyn shook her head. “Patrick said I look like you,” 

“Well, fortunately, you have both of our DNA in your structure. My eye shape, Meagan’s laugh, my skin, Meghan’s build, my scowl, Meagan’s smarts, etc. But what matters is that you are one hundred percent yourself, however many traits you get from your parents,” explained Pete, “And now that Patrick’s part of the family, you can learn a lot from him.”

Londyn rolled her eyes. “Like how to confuse people. I don’t understand him at all.”

Pete’s ears perked up. “What don’t you understand?” 

“His life decisions. He was born a girl, then became a boy, then married a boy. He could’ve just stayed a girl, married a boy, and not receive any backlash from society.” 

Pete considered getting Patrick, since he was a bit confused himself and Patrick would be able to explain it with some metaphor about butterflies or peanuts or whatever he was able to do. “I-Is it okay if I have Patrick talk about this?” 

“We already talked about this — he and I.” 

“Oh. Really?” 

Londyn shrugged her shoulders and wiped her eyes. “Sort of, I guess. He told me about what it means when he says he’s a guy, he told me you guys got married because you were in love, and he told me that he’ll be there for me,” she chuckled lightly and stared up at her father with her wide chestnut eyes. Pete smiled back. 

“So, what does it mean to be a guy?” 

Londyn paused, trying to recall her stepdad’s words. It was a few days ago, and she was pretty tired at the time, but some of it stuck with her. “He said... he said something about a flat chest, testosterone, and his identity. But, uh, the identity mattered most.” 

Pete sighed contentedly. “Sounds like my Patrick. He is a smart man, and you’ll learn a lot about him. And as for the married thing–“ 

“I hated both you and Patrick for two months. The first two months, that is,” Londyn admitted. 

Pete didn’t take much time to recover from that. “And now...?” 

“I only hate Patrick.” 

“Why?” 

“He’s so happy. He’s trying to bend me into some form of optimist with his hippie clothes and inspirational grandma music. Grand _pa_ music, I mean. Sorry.” Londyn blushed and ripped a tissue into pieces. “He also acts like he cares about me, which is awkward because there’s not much to care about.” 

Pete sniffed at the “grandpa music” comment. “If I was in this situation at your age with a stepdad like Patrick, I would’ve said that exact same thing. You kind of have to get used to him; he’s quirky.” 

“We’re all quirky, but only he makes it look good,” Londyn smiled and shook her head. “At least he doesn’t watch football. Otherwise I’d hate him even more, if possible. Although I think this conversation is gonna make me hate him less.”

”I love how you’re so open about who you hate. Like, we’re in the same house as him and you’re literally talking to the most protective husband in the world, but you just go out there and say, _yup, I hate his guts_. I admire that.”

”Better out loud than on the internet,” the twelve year old stared at the closed door, then heard a shuffling noise. Pete heard it too.

”Uh, Patrick? Is that you?” Pete called out, smirking. Londyn burst into laughter as Patrick mumbled, “Yeah...” 

Pete looked at Londyn’s cheerful expression before replying, “Do you want to come in?” 

“Only if it’s okay with _her_.” 

Londyn nodded and said, “Yeah, it’s okay with _her_. We were just talking about you, actually.” 

“I know,” Patrick twisted the doorknob and walked inside nervously. He didn’t go far into the room. “It’s okay to hate me.” 

“I wasn’t going to ask for permission,” Londyn smirked to let him know she was joking. Patrick let out a sigh of relief. 

“And, um, I'm pretty sure we’ve all hated me at some point, no matter how much,” he sat in the wooden chair and leaned his elbows on his knees. His baseball cap was a little askew, which ticked Londyn off, but that wasn’t a _real_ problem. The weird thing was the lack of tension in the room, or how they weren’t mad at Londyn for saying stuff like this. 

They all seemed to feel the same way at that point. 

“Patrick, if it makes you feel better, Londyn used to hate you and I _both_ , as a collective item,” Pete offered with a wan smile. His husband chuckled and fidgeted with his hands. 

“I mean, at least she’s not doing things to hurt me or anything. She’s not misgendering me on purpose, or asking sarcastic questions, or throwing my _trans necessities_ in the garbage out of spite. I mean, I’m sure she’s thought of it before. Have you?” 

Londyn nodded. “I almost cut off the whole length of your packer once.” 

Patrick blushed. “I thought I hid the packers.” 

Pete snickered. “Under the bed is _not_ hiding. In the back of a closet, under a 24 pack box, hidden in one out of five shoe boxes, wrapped in aluminum foil; that’s what I call hiding. You were storing it under the bed. Anyone can access storage, if they have the key.” 

“What have you hidden in that location you just described?” 

Pete bit his lip. “Can’t tell you.” 

“Why?” 

“There’s a kid around,” Pete whispered in his husband’s direction, guarding his mouth from Londyn with the side of his hand. Patrick rose his eyebrows subtly and discreetly gestured you-know-what with the “okay” symbol and his pointer finger. Pete nodded, blushing. Patrick rolled his eyes and leaned back. 

Pete cleared his throat and turned to Londyn. “Is there anything else you want to talk about?” he asked calmly. 

Londyn shook her head. “I think we covered most of it.” 

Patrick smiled, stood up, and gave Londyn an awkward side-hug. He was gentle and hesitant, but Londyn was okay with it. She hugged him back with a tight pull that couldn’t be competed with, but it seemed like a challenge. A challenge Patrick didn’t want to accept. 

Pete joined the hug, kissing both of them on the cheek. “You guys are the best,” he murmured. 

The hug ended less gracefully then expected, but that was okay. What part of “blended family” was graceful anyway? 

A small silence passed through, broken by Patrick saying, “I’m gonna order lunch in about five minutes, so what do you guys want?” 

Pete replied automatically. “Pizza.” 

Londyn nodded. “Pizza.” 

It was never a question when a Wentz requested pizza. It was a battle cry. Patrick pulled out his phone and speed dialed Da Vinci’s. “The usual?” he assumed. 

Pete pointed finger guns at him. “You know it. Could we have Londyn’s half _also_ have cream cheese?” 

“Ew, no, dad.” 

Pete shrugged. “Don’t hate Patrick for this, since it’s my fault this time. Patrick, put cream cheese on Londyn’s pizza.” 

Patrick nodded, and followed his husband’s directions. 

*********

That night, Londyn approached Patrick in the studio and gave him a hug. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean to say all that about you. You’re really cool, and I’m glad that dad married you.” 

Patrick tensed up. He prepared for a bomb to be dropped on him. Londyn had never willingly been this nice to him. “Y-You don’t have a water balloon in your hand or anything, right? This is a genuine statement?” 

Londyn sighed and squeezed him tighter. “I’m sorry for leaving that impression on you.”

”So, you–“ 

“No, this hug doesn’t have a dark side.” 

Patrick smiled and relaxed into the hug. “That’s nice,” he chuckled. 

Londyn smiled back. “I don’t really hate you, you know. I just want you to know that I’m going to call you by your first name forever. Dad is my dad. Mom is my mom. And you, Patrick, are Patrick.” 

“That’s good. At least you don’t call me Olivia.” 

“Is that your...?” 

Patrick nodded and stared at the piano in front of him. “Yeah. Don’t tell anyone. Not even Pete knows, actually. I’m gonna tell him soon, though.” 

“O-Okay,” Londyn’s voice shook. Patrick trusted her to know this. 

Patrick trusted her to know. 

Patrick trusted her. 

Patrick trusted. 

Patrick. 

**Author's Note:**

> Clean comments!


End file.
